


Zarry Oneshot

by merhoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Gay, Love, M/M, Oneshot, Sex, Slash, zarry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merhoran/pseuds/merhoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is a bit different Zarry oneshot, seeing by the POV of a girl who is in love with Zayn. <br/>Please comment!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zarry Oneshot

All I ever learnt from love is that you need to shoot before they shoot you. They can say whatever they want, but love is nothing else than a gunfight.

Who dies first? 

But what happens when one of them is already dead?

He told me that hearts couldn’t be fixed once you break them. He also told me that his was already broken. That was my mistake, I tried to fix it and it didn’t work. Instead of healing it, I hurt mine. And now I don’t think it can be fixed.

I tried to hate him too many times, getting no results either. Because there is no point on hating someone you love, right? And I mean really love…

I really loved him. Zayn Malik.

“Just don’t fall in love with me”, he used to say. “That just carries problems”

“I won’t”, I used reply.

But I did, poor stupid girl. I let myself fall, knowing the consequences. I knew he had someone else in his mind when we were alone at the bedroom, when his hands were caressing my skin and his lips were tasting me; I knew that the answer wasn’t “You” when I asked him what was he thinking about.

“I used to live alone before I knew you”, he told me once.

And I wondered what did he mean with that. I only get it now. He never had the person he loved, the person he dreamt about, the person he needed. I had the person I loved in front of me all day but I never felt him close, he was always in somewhere else. But how can you not love his infinite eyes, his lost eyes?

Zayn was a mystery. I asked him about it once. I asked him what was so amazing about that person. What got him like that.

“Those lips”, he replied, the smoke of his cigarette creating beautiful figures in the air and his pupils travelling with it. “It’s like they’re made to catch your attention. Like when you watch the fire, it gets you. You can’t stop looking at it once you start, can you?”

I nodded my head, he was right. I felt the same way with him; Zayn was beautiful to stare at. I studied his movements, his hand lifting a cigarette in the darkness of our bedroom, the angle of his hips, the corner of his lips, the way he stared at things without seeing them, and I used to wonder how many people he saw without actually seeing them; I examined his body under different lights.

Don’t move, I used to think. Stay like that, please. Let me have that. 

But he never did, he never let me have him. He didn’t want to hurt me either, things were just like that: he wasn’t made for me. Zayn never belonged to me when I needed him to, that one person never belonged to him when he needed it.

You want what you can’t have, I guess.

“I’m so sorry”, he whispered to me when he finished everything, pecking my lips. “You know this isn’t right. You know I’ll hurt you”

Then, he walked away allowing me to watch him go for the last time, like he used to do every morning. But I knew that this time it was forever, that I wasn’t going to see him ever again. And I knew it because that last night he loved me like never before. He touched places nobody ever did before, he let me kiss every corner of his anatomy and made me feel the love I never felt, the love he never felt.

He was convincing me about something, and I agreed with a single tear rolling down my face. We signed the pact in the darkness, breathless. He was doing it for me; he was only saying ‘thanks’ before leaving.

I wasn’t jealous of that person, anyway. I knew that it was just like that, that it wasn’t my fault; I knew Zayn loved me, but he could never love me like that. I never asked for a name either. I didn’t need it, I knew who was it. I knew why he couldn’t have that person, why he couldn’t have him. Because a boy can’t say that, a boy can’t feel that. Because, in too many minds, a boy can’t have other boy.

His name was Harry Styles, he was 18, he had the world in his hands.

And Zayn was all his.


End file.
